


Agency

by aliencereal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slavery, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencereal/pseuds/aliencereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke doesn't ever want to trigger Fenris again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agency

The last time Fenris was in this bedroom, Hawke's mother had just died.

The time before that, he'd felt Danarius' touch from Hawke's fingers, harsh echoes of violence ringing in empty spaces where love should be.

And now he's here again, sitting at the foot of her bed, bare feet resting on a floor that is a better cared for mirror of the mansion he sleeps in. They are naked but they are only talking. Hawke's hands are warm on his shoulders, firm but not rough, rubbing little circles into the sore muscles at the base of his neck with her thumbs.

“I don't want this to hurt you,” She says conversationally, her tone so deeply at odds with the situation that it actually makes him feel more at ease. There's no gravity to her in this moment, no threatening bigness that he might ruin with panic or pain.

He understands that she isn't talking about the neck massage.

“I can handle it, now,” He insists, letting his eyes close as she trails her fingers into his hair. He normally doesn't let people touch it, too hesitant around the echoes of a magister's hands.

“I don't want to do anything you'd have to handle. I want us to do things that bring you pleasure, and nothing else,” Hawke says, gently scratching his scalp with her fingernails. It's an unfamiliar touch. It brings up none of the nausea Fenris associates with someone holding his hair in their fists, forcing his head where he doesn't want it to go.

He hesitates, but she waits.

“This is nice,” He finally admits. Hawke hums thoughtfully.

“You like having your hair played with?” She asks, genuine and interested instead of mocking or even teasing.

“As long as you don't pull,” Fenris tells her, wondering if perhaps this is a sign of weakness. Isabela speaks often of hair-pulling. Hawke does not laugh. Instead, she continues, still gentle.

“Alright. What else do you like?” She questions, and Fenris has to stop to think about it. What he enjoys is rarely a question to consider; what he needs is usually all that matters. She doesn't hurry him along while he's thinking.

“I like to have you beneath me. I do not feel... caged that way,” He says, voice only faltering for a moment. He remembers dark figures looming over him, and the idea of Hawke as one of them in disturbing. He expects Hawke to complain, as to be on top is to have power and Hawke has always been a leader.

She doesn't. Instead, she ducks her head down and kisses the nape of his neck.

“That can certainly be arranged. It's a rather appealing prospect, truthfully,” Hawke says, her breath ghosting over one of his ears. He shudders, responding to a light thread of pleasure that stretches down his spine. He tilts his head, and she nudges the offending ear with her nose and mouth.

“My ears,” He starts, but stops there, unsure of how to continue. He's very particular about the treatment of them. Even for an elf, his are sensitive. It's easy to tip over from pleasure into pain.

“Gently?” Hawke asks, and Fenris just nods. She presses up against his back as she softly mouths along the curve of his ear. It isn't terribly intense but it's a warm glow of pleasure burns slowly into his stomach. He's getting hard, but there's nothing shameful or desperate about it.

“What else?” Hawke asks, her arms looping around his shoulders. He can feel her breasts against his back.

“I like to look at you,” He tells her, and she slowly pulls away from him. Fenris turns to look and finds her laying on her back, propped up on her elbows and smiling so genuinely at him.

“Like this?” She asks, and Fenris crawls over to her. He touches her face with the pads of his fingers, gentle where he'd once been rough with her, desperate to have her before she slipped away. He doesn't think she's going anywhere now.

“More like this,” He corrects, sliding his hand down her belly and slipping his fingers between her legs. She is slick and hot and welcoming, and she rewards him with the most glorious sigh as he strokes her clit with two fingers. The slow burn in his belly catches fire and he dips his fingers into her, stroking her insides while she grinds against his palm. She is reacting to _him_ , to something he has chosen freely to do, and there is only pleasure here.

She is beautiful.

He kisses her and her hands fly up to his hair. For a second he thinks she's forgotten, that she's going to grab him, but she doesn't. She simply resumes the gentle scratching of her nails as she spreads her legs for him.

Fenris pushes into her, smooth and easy. She moans and arches into him for more, but she never fists her hands in his hair.

Instead, she asks for what she wants, makes it his choice.

He chooses to give her what she wants.

For the first time, locked into an embrace with another body, Fenris feels free.


End file.
